Seems I Bit Off More Than I Can Chew
by Expressionista
Summary: Life's good when you don't work at the Blood Bar, you aren't guardian to two kids, and your brother's friends don't insist the neighbor's a vampire. Things are better when said boys aren't right. Let's just say things aren't going too well for me lately.
1. Meeting the New Guy

**Author's Note:**

**Hey guys! Well, saw Fright Night the other day and couldn't get it out of my head, so I figured I'd write this out. It won't be too long (unlike my other stories), so I hope to finish it soon. **

**Anyways, hope you enjoy!**

**(Pics of the costume on my profile)**

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><p>"What's yer name, sweetheart?"<p>

Dear God, there's something about getting asked that question at 12:30 on a Thursday... It's a normal week at work. A local band is playing eerie rock music, our regulars are all seated at their regular tables with their regular servers, and the air is filled with its regular fog produced by the fog machines. The long, puffed white sleeves of my shirt glow under the black lights of the Blood Bar while my black corset, pants and boots simply blend into the background, and as I stand in front of this idiot's table, for once I wish that I, too, could simply blend into the shadows and pass unseen by the moronic eye.

"Isis," I answer icily. At this point, it's almost natural to use the cold voice and fake name I've had to since I started working here three months ago. The man nods, his eyes wandering desperately over my chest. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and simply clear my throat, drawing his attention back up to my face. "Can I get you another drink?" I ask, gesturing to the empty beer bottle on the round table in front of him. Actually, there are four other bottles on the table, at least one of them belonging to him while the others belong to his friend, who is too busy ogling at Samantha- aka Scarlet- to notice me standing there. These guys aren't regulars, but it's at least the third time I've seen them this week, and they are steadily getting bolder, much to my annoyance.

He smirks and opens his mouth to make some sort of flirtatious comment, but I stop him by raising one thin brow, daring him to voice whatever words he has planned to throw at me. After only a second under my challenging gaze, he nods instead and mutters something about the last beer of the night before turning away. I turn around in my heeled boots and make my way to the bar, smiling smugly to myself as I do so.

Yes, I know. Working in Vegas requires more patience, friendliness and flirtatiousness than I have to offer, even in the one vampire bar on this side of the strip. But, the simple truth is that I've never been any of those things, and most likely never will be. My safety, however, is that finding honest workers is becoming harder and harder every season, and at least when I'm left in charge of the money, all of the numbers are in perfect order. So, much to my relief, I'm allowed to get away with anything other than bodily harm to the customers. My no-nonsense attitude isn't necessarily appreciated by our more hormone-driven clientele, which actually sums up about 98% of our clientele, but even so, some of them perceive it as part of the act, along with my "vampire name" and platinum wig.

"Bones, another Bud," I call to the bartender, who is chatting up a group of loud college girls. Bones waves and nods, his wide smile showing off a pair of fangs that seem to just go naturally with his Colgate smile. His outfit today is leather pants and a leather collar studded with spikes and a chain, more of a Dominatrix outfit in my opinion, but who am I to judge? We don't have the luxury of choosing our wardrobes here.

Not that his audience isn't appreciating his lack of free will. Bones stands at easily six feet with broad shoulders, a sculpted chest and strong arms, assets our costume director makes it a point to compliment- or rather, bare completely to the public. He's naturally a pale blond (or so he's said) and has the perfect blue eyes to go with it, but, like the grand majority of us, he'd been forced to dye his hair to better fit the part the moment he got the job. In all honesty, I do wonder what he would look like as a blond, but I've never known him as anything other than Vampire Bones with the blue-black hair.

Within seconds he's handing me the ice-cold bottle and squeezing my hand reassuringly. "Cool it Isis," he says teasingly, giving me a wink. "You're going to have wrinkles and gray hair for our date at the rate you're going."

This time I actually do roll my eyes, but a smile forces its way to my mouth as I do so. "You know me, Bones," I say with a shrug, stepping backwards from the counter with the bottle on my tray. "Carrying the world on my shoulders and all that jazz."

"Jazz- sounds perfect! I know a place!" he calls, earning himself a laugh as I shake my head and turn around. Yeah, about the "date" thing... Bones is a nice guy. He helped me out a lot when I first started working at the Blood Bar, and has continued to be a phenomenal help. A week ago he asked if I wanted to go out on one of our rare shared days off, an event that happened about as often as Haley's Comet, and feeling in a particularly good mood, I agreed. There's no clear policy about dating coworkers, so as long as no problems are brought to the work place, the owner doesn't mind. I'm not too worried about the whole thing. It's just a date, nothing serious. There isn't much room for serious dating for a serious girl in Vegas, and God knows I already have more on my plate than I can chew.

I'm not in my car and safely on my way home until five o'clock in the morning, which is actually early, considering the rush of clients we got about 1 AM. Cleaning out the place and squaring off the money is usually a feat that can last anywhere from an hour to two hours, depending on how much energy we "vampires" have after a night of working. Working in sky-high heels and pretending to be a seductive creature of the night can really take the life out of a girl, especially for the dancers, so most of the time, the dancers just sneak out, pretending to have places to go. This time, luckily, Scarlet and Jade (whose real name is Jane) stayed behind and helped Bones and me out, unlike the other night when it was just Bones and me. In both their defenses, they have babies, but then again, so do I... Sorta.

My neighborhood comes into sight, and immediately I feel the exhaustion start falling on my shoulders. After driving through a couple of streets, I reach my house and park in the middle of the driveway. I don't bother leaving enough room for another car; nobody beyond walking distance is going to come knocking today. Out of habit I pull the emergency brake on the ancient station wagon before killing the engine and climbing out.

I can hardly feel my legs as they lead me up to the front door and I reach into my pocket for my keys. There's silence inside of the house as I open the door, thankfully, and I sigh with a smile, knowing there's a good chance I'll get some sleep in before class.

As I walk into the living room, I find an interesting sight. Jeremy, Ed and Adam are thrown over the couches, mouths hanging open as they harmoniously conduct a symphony of snores. They're wearing the same exact clothes they were wearing when I left them last night, and if my eyes aren't deceiving me, Jeremy and Adam even look like they're almost cuddling. Even in my exhausted state, I can't resist the urge to grab my camera off the coffee table and take a quick picture of the trio for blackmailing purposes. Satisfied, I drop my purse on the same coffee table and climb up the stairs, pulling pins out of my hair and taking off jewelry as I go.

I don't waste more than five minutes on my shower and getting changed before climbing into bed. My bed is pushed up against the window, not necessarily the safest arrangement, but it's never bothered me much. I like being able to see the sun as it rises, and before, I used to like to rise with it. Nowadays, the sun and me have a tense relationship at best, and a hostile one at worst. Today our relationship will be hostile, so I lift myself onto my knees and grip the black curtains in my hands to close them. I have class at eleven, and I need my four hours of sleep before taking off.

As I look out my window, a pick-up truck pulls into the driveway of a house across the street. I'm almost certain that the house was for sale only yesterday, but then again, with my schedule, it wouldn't be surprising for me to forget what year I'm living in. Most of the time, it's an accomplishment to remember my full name and address. Before the driver can even turn off his or her car, I pull the curtains over the glass and bury myself underneath the covers, snuggling into my body pillow and praying that the boys know better than to wake me up before I've rested.

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><p>Turns out some prayers go unanswered.<p>

As I get ready for work, my head is pounding. At about seven o'clock this morning, Jeremy drooled on Adam's face, and Adam woke up screaming something about a vampire licking his cheek. Of course, Ed and Jeremy immediately woke up, grabbing stakes I hadn't noticed they'd made themselves, and started trying to fight said vampire. It took a whole four minutes of their yelling to finally wake me, and a single holler from me at the top of the stairs to finally shut them up. Even if silence reigned after my outburst, the damage was done, and I was forced to go to college with only an hour of sleep for fuel. Needless to say, all three boys were out the door and on their way to school before I'd even gone to the bathroom, and when I got home from college, they weren't lounging in my living room like they normally were.

See, having the boys stay over during the week has its pros and cons. Because I work nights, the pro is that I don't have to worry about my sixteen-year-old brother, Jeremy, falling down the stairs and dying, because there are two other boys around to call an ambulance. Also, Ed's and Adam's moms always make sure he's fed. The con shows up in the hours of sleep I get- or rather, don't get- thanks to their loud antics. Today's Friday, though, so Jeremy's babysitting his six-year-old half-brother, Matty. That means the boys can't stay over, which means that I get a full day's sleep when I get home from work.

Goodie.

I finish lacing up my boots and stand up, automatically at least two inches taller. A full-length mirror hangs on the wall next to my bathroom, and with some apprehension, I look at my reflection. The Blood Bar's costume director, Vincent (not pronounced the same way it is in English, but rather with a French accent, like "Vinsohnt"), decided yesterday that it was time to switch up my uniform a bit, and handed me a new costume. Rather than find my customary gypsy-styled shirt with the long sleeves, I found another gypsy-inspired shirt, this one with short sleeves that left my shoulders completely bare, along with a black skirt that ended just above my knees, with the mid-calf high-heeled boots that I'd been praying wouldn't be in the bag. To top it all off, I'm wearing a gaudy cross, a complete oxymoron when put together with my outfit. Even my face and hair seem foreign: my mahogany hair falls just past my shoulders and my bangs hang over my green eyes, which normally gives off a "cute" vibe, but right now, looks anything but cute. Then again, wearing the outfit wouldn't be so bad if I could just wear my hair like this and cover my shoulders, but once I get to work, I'll have to wear the damned short platinum wig that makes me feel like a mannequin.

In short, I feel like a Gothic, vampire-wannabe skank. Thanks a lot, Vincent.

Luckily, as I hurry down the stairs (it's six o'clock and I'm already late), the boys are nowhere to be seen. The last thing I need right now is to have Ed and Adam drooling over my new work uniform, especially not when I'm in such a foul mood. Just in case, I pull my leather jacket on to cover my shoulders. The sun has already set when I step out of my house, purse and car keys in hand, and I'm glad because no neighbors are in sight. The pick-up truck across the street turns on, and in reaction to it, I dive into my car as fast as I can. It would be a terrible first impression if the new neighbor saw me in this get-up. When I don't see the driver turning in my direction, I let out a sigh of relief and check the mirrors to make sure everything is in place.

A large shadow in the back seat makes my heart jump into my throat. Cursing, I scramble out of the car and run to the grass, putting distance between myself and the shadow. When I turn around, however, the shadow takes a more defined shape, and my curses of fear quickly become curses of rage.

"You have got to be kidding me!" I exclaim angrily, marching up to my car and pulling the back door open. Surely enough, Ed, Adam and Jeremy tumble out of the car and onto the driveway, shameful looks on all of their faces. "Seriously? First this morning, and now this? Are you guys trying to drive me insane so I kill you in your sleep?"

"Please Lani, we can explain-" Jeremy begins, but I cut him off.

"Don't 'Please Lani' me!" I snap, not in the mood to hear explanations. I notice their camcorder equipment and realize they've been video taping something. "Just..." I clench a fist and take a deep breath. "I don't want to hear it. Go and get the house ready for Matty to get here. I have to go to work."

"But Lani, we have to tell you something," Ed begins. He opens his mouth to continue, but stops when he sees something over my shoulder. Clenching his teeth, he stops and grabs his backpack from the floor. "Forget it. Let's go, guys." Immediately Jeremy and Adam follow him into my house, their pace a little faster than normal. I stare after them in confusion, but shake my head only a second later. If I couldn't figure them out when I was a teenager myself, I wasn't going to figure out the mechanisms that run a teenage boy's mind now at twenty-one. I'm reaching for the car door handle when I hear him behind me.

"Is everything alright?"

He catches me by surprise. I turn around with a sheepish look on my face that disappears the moment I lay eyes on him. I'd expected the neighbor to be just any old guy, or maybe another stripper, or even some sort of criminal, but he doesn't seem the type. Rather, he's... actually kinda handsome.

He's tall and has a muscular build- not overly muscular like Bones, but moderately so-, something made very apparent by the sleeveless shirt and jeans he's wearing. As much as his body catches my attention, its his face that keeps me looking. He has jet black hair and dark eyes, hooded with a strong brow, and his mouth is spread in a charming smile. Immediately a red flag is set off in my mind, not because he seems dangerous or anything, but because he's the kind of guy that I like, which means I should go running in the other direction.

I clear my throat, realizing he asked a question. "Everything's fine," I assure him. "It's just my step brother and his friends. They're weird, and I don't always have enough weirdness in me to understand."

He shrugs, looking past me at the house. "They seem like good kids," he says. "Weird, but good."

"No, they're very good kids," I say quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. "I love them like they're all my brothers. I'm just... haven't had such a good start today." Remembering something, I gesture at him. "I mean, you'd understand, right?" He cocks his head to the side in a silent question, and I explain. "You work nights. I mean, don't get freaked out, but I saw your car drive in just as I was going to sleep." I pause. "That is your car, right?"

"Yes, that's my truck," he says with a nod, a smirk playing at his lips. "Are you the neighborhood stalker?" I roll my eyes and he smiles. "Yeah, I'm just joking. I work night construction, so you're on point with that one."

"Oh, cool," I say, crossing my arms. "Night construction..." Suddenly I remember why I'm on my driveway in the first place. "Speaking of work, I've gotta go now," I tell him apologetically, and look around for my keys. In my panic and rage I'd dropped them in the grass, so bending down carefully to make sure my damned uniform doesn't show anything inappropriate, I pick them up. He watches me the whole time, something I try to convince myself doesn't make me nervous, and as I'm standing up again, he offers his hand to help. I accept, pulling my hand away the moment I'm safely on my two high-heeled feet.

"You work on the Strip?" he asks. I wave a hand.

"Yeah, nights and weekends, you know how it is," I say casually. "Sounds more like a cellphone contract than a work schedule."

"Dancer?"

"No, I'm not a stripper," I deny jokingly, knowing that's what he really wants to ask. He laughs in embarrassment and runs a hand through his hair, making me laugh, too.

"That's not what I meant," he tries to explain, but I wave a hand.

"It's Vegas, it's fine," I assure him, still laughing. "I'm a waitress and bartender-in-training."

"At a... Goth bar?" he asks, gesturing at my outfit. I'd all but forgotten just how out-of-character I look until he mentioned it, and now I'm better understanding why he thought I'm a stripper.

"Um... Yeah, it's kinda a bit more embarrassing than that," I admit reluctantly. He stays looking at me expectantly and I shake my head. "No, I'm not getting into detail."

"Really?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. I nod.

"Yeah, if you can find it, I'll buy you a drink to welcome you to the neighborhood," I say, holding up my hands. "Otherwise, I'd rather as few people as possible know about my workplace."

"Well, how about I find out where you work, and then _I _buy you a drink?" he suggests. I blink in surprise and wait for the punch line, but strangely enough, he's looking at me with eyes that are imploring me to say "yes". I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. "Too soon?" he asks, and although he's pretending to be worried about what I think, I know he isn't embarrassed at all. He's too confident for that, and he's only acting ashamed for my sake.

"No, you just caught me by surprise," I say quickly, taking a deep breath. "But... Yeah, you can buy me a drink, if you don't go running in the opposite direction once you see my workplace." He smiles, apparently relieved that I agreed. I frown, realizing something. "Hey, what's your name again?"

He blinks and holds out his hand. "Wow, where are my manners? I'm Jerry," he answers. I take his hand and shake it firmly. "And you, Goth Girl?"

"Lani," I reply. "Not Keilani, and not Goth Girl."

"I'll be sure to remember that," he says, tapping his forehead. He nods at the car and steps back, signaling his exit. "I'll be seeing you later, _Lani_."

I wave and drop down into my car, making it a point not to watch him as he walks away. He's different from the guys who normally live in our neighborhood, but I can't put my finger on just what it is. Pushing the questions to the back of my mind, I start my car and finally pull out of the driveway, making my way to work much too soon after leaving.

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><p><strong>Post-Chapter Note:<strong>

**Okay, if you think I should continue, please review!**

**Either way, the next chapter I have written is less of an introductory chapter, and goes more into Jerry and all that stuff. Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think!**


	2. Not My Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

**Here's the next chapter! I hope everyone had a great New Year ^_^**

**Let this year be a happy one, filled with happy readers who leave many reviews, hmm? Ha ha just playing, but please, let me know what you think when you finish reading, okay?**

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><p>While Thursdays aren't my favorite day of the week, Friday is definitely the best.<p>

My favorite local band is playing on the stage with all of the musicians dressed in black and wearing fangs, and the fog machines have been turned almost to full power. For once, the bar is actually packed, and not just with weird people with strange vampire fetishes. No, today we have everything from cowboys to big city hotshots to the locals that don't mind the décor and come to listen to the music. I'm loving the vibe, and I can tell that everyone else is, too.

In all honesty, if I hadn't been desperate for a job when my mom had to leave town, chances are I never would have set foot in the bar, even out of curiosity, like most of our customers have. The walls are all painted black with red splatters that are supposed to resemble blood scattered all over them. There are paintings hanging around along with medieval weaponry and different vampire-slaying weapons of lore. In summary, it's kinda creepy. The most attention-grabbing aspect of the club, however, has to be the employees. All of us wear the same fangs and dark make-up, but each of us is dressed to represent a different period or "variety" of vampire. Bones and Jade have the black leather look going on, Scarlet plays the high-class seductress dressed in slinky gowns every night, Victoria (to be honest, I don't know her real name) is some sort of medieval victim with bite marks, and so on.

Me? I've always been "Gypsy Vampire". Tacky, I know, especially now that I've been "promoted" to "Gothic Gypsy Vampire". Well, you've gotta do what you've gotta do, and at least I'm not stripping.

"Excuse me, Isis!"

I stop and turn around to see who called me. There's a table full of men in business suits, all celebrating some sort of business-related occasion. They've been here for several hours, talking loudly, cheering on the band and tipping heavily, but Scarlet's been in charge of them, so it's strange that they're calling me, and even more so that they know my name. I quickly head over, a polite smile on my face.

"Yes?" I say, looking straight at the one who called me over. He seems to be the pack leader of the group, and judging by the watch on his wrist, he's the one who's paying. He gestures for me to go to him, so internally bracing myself, I stand next to him. "What can I get you?"

"Do you dance, Isis?" he asks conversationally, brown eyes raking over my body. Keeping on my pleasant smile, I shake my head.

"No sir," I answer. "Scarlet and Jade dance, but I'm just a waitress."

He seems slightly disappointed, but bounces back quickly. "Can you mix a good drink?" he asks. Figuring it's worth the risk, I answer that I can. "Good. I'd like for you to make me something nice." He takes my hand and lays a kiss on the back of my fingers. "I want you to make it, not the bartender. Make it strong."

"I'll be right around with that." I pull my hand back and walk away, smiling despite the chuckles his friends are sharing. I know his type, and they're virtually harmless. They'll throw a flirtatious comment here and there, lavish me with compliments, and extend an invitation or drop a business card as they're leaving. I'll give them a vague response, they'll feel satisfied thinking they've got me wrapped around their fingers, and their phones will never ring. The reason I play along? Hefty tips are dropped along the way, and those tips are what fill my gas tank. Needless to say, my car's gas tank is very, very empty.

Lifting up the door that leads behind the bar, I give Bones a nod and get to work on a drink. He raises a brow at me questioningly and I shrug. "The guy wants me to make him a drink," I say in defense. "I'm doing what he asked."

"Normally you'd have brushed him off," Bones points out, making a couple of drinks himself next to me. Today he isn't wearing a leather collar, but rather a harness around his chest. Vincent is out of his mind. "You hate it when the clients touch you. What's the reason behind your good mood?"

"Maybe it's the extra-large coffee you bought me to get me through the night," I say, giving him a wide smile. "Again, thanks so much for that. Jeremy and his friends didn't let me sleep." I pause and add, "Oh, and it was a polite kiss on the hand, not a hand on my ass."

"I don't know how you do it," he admits, shaking his head. "Fifteen college credits, a teenage boy and a full-time job on the Strip. You've gotta let me in on your secret one of these days."

I hold a finger up to my lips as I finish pouring the drink and place it on my tray. "It's a secret," I say jokingly. He waves a hand as I head back, ready to chat up the table and make sure they have a good time. Surely enough, I'm given a twenty dollar bill as tip for the drink, and Scarlet takes two of the men for private dances in the curtained alcoves set up on one side of the bar. Like usual on Friday nights, I have an all-around good time; the energy is great on the weekends, and there's more back-up than on week nights. Normally I have to cover the whole floor with only one other waitress during the week, hence my bad moods. I finish attending a group of college students when I finally take my fifteen-minute break at the bar.

"Bones, get me a water?" I call. He's talking to a couple of girls and pouring them shots of tequila, but he gives a discreet nod that I know is meant for me. I sit relaxed, knowing that any minute, I'll get my drink. I close my eyes and bob my head to the music, a soft rock ballad that a bride-to-be requested. I can't help but wonder what kind of bride would go to a vampire bar for their bachelorette party, but before I can ponder on it for much longer, I hear somebody pull back the seat next to me. Reluctantly I open my eyes and look at the newcomer.

"Isis," the man from earlier greets. Despite the strong drink I made him, he doesn't seem too intoxicated as he holds out his hand for me to shake. Up close, I notice that the suit he's wearing isn't black like his colleagues' suits, but rather is a dark blue. I return the gesture.

"Sir," I answer, not knowing how else to refer to him, seeing as I don't know his name. If forced to, I would call him Blue Suit Guy. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Definitely," he assures me, leaning back against the counter. I watch him warily, not sure why he's separated from his group of celebrating friends to talk to me. "Your name isn't Isis, is it?"

I can't help but smile to myself as I shake my head and brace my elbows on the bar. "No, it isn't."

"And it is...?"

"Iris," I answer smoothly. "Just a one-letter difference." He nods, accepting the information.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Iris?" he asks with a sigh. I take a deep breath and look at Bones, wishing he would hurry up with my water so I can get back to work.

"I'd rather not say," I reply carefully, not wanting to offend him or give him the wrong idea, either. "The whole 'boyfriend' title can be a bit ambiguous, and is a mess I'm currently uninterested in cleaning up." He nods again and takes a sip from his drink.

"Fair enough," he concedes. After a moment, he leans closer. "But just so you know, I wasn't asking for personal reasons. It was for your benefit."

"Was it really?" I mutter with false interest. He catches on and chuckles.

"I mean it," he says, looking into my eyes. "There's a man who's been watching you for the past fifteen minutes, and I was wondering if he was a stalker or a lover." My eyes widen and he smiles, knowing he's caught me by surprise. Deciding not to take up any more time, he gestures at a table in the direction behind me and gets up from his seat. "So long, Iris. Thanks for a lovely time." He drops another twenty dollar bill on the bar and walks off, rejoining his group. Once I've grabbed the money, I turn around and scan the small crowd. After a couple of seconds, the people move, and I catch sight of the person he referred to.

My heart skips a beat as I meet Jerry's eyes, watching me from across the bar. He raises a hand and gives a short wave, a slow smile spreading across his lips. It's strange how he manages to turn a smile into something both exciting and scary. As an immediate reaction I wave back, and after only a second of hesitation, I motion for him to join me at the bar. I turn around and take a deep breath to gather myself as he makes his way in my direction. My heart is racing and for some reason I feel undeniably nervous, an emotion I'm unfamiliar with for the most part. Sometimes I can be so in control, and then someone like Jerry comes along that makes my body just go absolutely haywire-!

"So, it's a _vampire bar_," Jerry says appreciatively as he sits down in the seat the rich guy just abandoned. "I didn't know they had those in Vegas." He's changed his clothes and now he's wearing a black polo and jeans, more bar-appropriate clothes in his standards, I assume. No matter how casual he's dressed, I'm hyper-aware of him as if he's something like Bones' outfit.

"I didn't either until I applied for work here," I admit, my voice coming out calm enough. Spurred by the confidence that my voice isn't faltering, I cock my head to the side and look at him curiously. "How did you find me, anyway?"

"I followed you," he says casually. "Your station wagon is very conspicuous." When my eyes widen in alarm, he laughs and shakes his head. "I asked around about Goth bars, and got sent here. Almost didn't recognize you with the..." He trails off, pointing at the platinum wig. "Also, it seems that people here are under the impression that your name is 'Isis'?"

"It's work policy," I explain, waving a hand. "We've had issues with several sexual harassers, so we all have to have two names here. One is our stage name, and the other is the name we give when someone asks for our real name."

"And yours are?"

"Isis and Iris." He barks a laughs and I feel my cheeks flush. "Hey, they're simple and easy to remember!"

"Whatever you say, Goddess," he says, leaning his elbows onto the bar like me. "What happened with the harassers?"

I drum my fingers on the dark polished wood and try to recall the details. "It happened before I started working here," I begin. "Apparently this guy took the vampire-thing too seriously and starting stalking one of the dancers. He followed her home and tried to..." I wave a hand, and he nods, already knowing what I mean. "... anyway, it didn't happen. Bones noticed the guy lurking around, so he also followed her home. The cops had to wait several hours in the police station for the swelling in his face to go down so they could confirm an ID." Jerry lets out a low whistle and I laugh, nodding. "Yeah, I know. So since then, we all have fake names here, get escorted to our cars by Bones or the bouncer to a specific well-lit lot with a security guard, and Vincent, our costume designer, uses that incident as an excuse to alter our appearances as much as he possibly can." I point at my wig and roll my eyes. "Hence this crap."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Tough luck."

I scoff. "You have no idea."

He turns on the bar stool to face me. "So, about that drink..." I point at my name tag apologetically. "Can't drink at work?" I shake my head. "Wow, that sucks."

I shrug. "Tough luck, huh?"

"And what time do you get off from work?" he asks just as Bones decides to make his appearance with my glass of water. I cringe at the serious look on Bones' face as he nods minutely at Jerry, asking me if I need his help. I shake my head shortly and clear my throat.

"Jerry, this is Bones," I say, gesturing to my friend. "Bones is the one who's teaching me how to be a bartender, and he helped me settle in when I first got started. Bones, this is Jerry, my new neighbor. I promised him a drink to welcome him to the neighborhood." Jerry immediately turns to Bones and smiles, extending his hand. He projects only good-natured friendliness as he looks at Bones, apparently not put off by the bondage outfit; Bones, however, seems to get a different vibe, because his shoulders are tense as he firmly shakes Jerry's hand.

"So, what will it be?" Bones asks, clearing his throat and bracing his hands against the bar. Jerry looks at the bottles along the wall, considering, and shakes his head.

"Just a beer, whatever you've got on tap," he says. "Thanks, bud." Bones nods and walks off to get the beer. The moment Bones is out of earshot, Jerry leans over and asks, "Boyfriend?"

I shake my head. "Friend. He's just protective of us," I assure him. He gives me a doubtful look.

"Sure," he says sarcastically.

"I'm serious!"

"How could he have not asked you out yet?" he presses. When I can't come up with an answer, he puts two-and-two together and snorts. "Don't tell me. You turned him down, and now you're trying to be friends?"

"No!" I exclaim, but I can't help but smiling slightly. "We agreed to go out this week. Hear some music, eat some food- something casual." When his doubtful look doesn't falter, I sigh exasperatedly. "Come on! He's not my boyfriend!"

"Well, I have to admit, that's something of a relief," he says, his voice lowering an octave. I notice now that he's only an inch or two away from my face, and very slowly inching closer. I stop breathing and wait for him to pull back, but he doesn't. For some reason I can't move to save my life, and as he meets my eyes and smiles with one side of his mouth, his eyes sliding down to my lips, I'm transfixed. My heart is pounding against the inside of my chest like a prisoner trying to escape with the force of its blows, and it's amazing to me that he can't hear it. What the hell he's doing to me is beyond my comprehension, and as he reaches up and touches my cheek with his fingertips, I swear I'm going to pass out. Rather than close the space like my body is begging him to do, he runs his hand up the side of my face until he reaches the wig. With a swift movement he pulls it off and drops it onto the bar stool next to him.

"Better," he mutters quietly, his breath skittering across my face. Without warning he pulls back just as Bones arrives with his beer, and after dropping some money on the bar and giving him a smile, Jerry takes his beer and walks off, my wig in hand. I'm completely thrown, my hands shaky as I grab my water and start to down it as fast as I can, not bothering to even squeeze out the lemon like I normally do. Bones looks at me with a raised, questioning brow, and waits for me to finish drinking before he speaks.

"So," he starts, and I hold up my hands.

"Not my boyfriend," I say before he can ask. His expression doesn't change.

"Maybe not," he agrees. "I still don't like him, though." When I lift the water up to drink again, he grabs it and sets it down outside of my reach. "Lani."

"Isis," I correct him. He rolls his eyes.

"Beside the point," he states, leaning forward so that he can lower his voice. "I'm not your boyfriend or your father, so I can't tell you who not to talk to." I nod, lowering my gaze. "You're a big girl. Be careful who you mix with." He pulls back then and cracks his knuckles. "And, if you need any help..."

I laugh, glad that the tense moment is over. "Nah, I can do that myself, but I'll keep it in mind," I assure him with a wink. He looks at me and frowns, reaching forward. Within seconds all of the pins are out and my hair is falling around my shoulders, slightly wavy from being pinned up, but presentable all the same. He nods, approving.

"I didn't know you had brown hair," he comments. Tenderness touches his eyes and I can't help but smile warmly at him.

"Improvement?" I ask. He raises his brows and nods. "Good. I'm off." Giving him a quick salute, I grab my serving tray and get back to work.

My plan had been to continue working as if it were any old night at work, but Jerry wasn't having it. Rather than leave after I reclaimed my wig and put it back on (much to his and Bones' disappointment), he stuck around listening to the music and watching the girls dance on the raised platforms. Well, he spent a part of his time watching the girls; the majority of the time, however, I felt his dark eyes boring into my back, and whenever our gazes would meet, he'd smile and wink. Needless to say, he had me on edge for the hours that followed, and there was nothing I could do about it. Three o'clock in the morning finally rolled around, and I was able to punch out to freedom. The bar will stay open twenty-four hours today, so luckily I don't have to stick around for clean-up duty.

As I wait at an empty table for Bones to get a free moment and take me to my car (work policy can be a real pain in the ass), I sense Jerry come next to me. I have this feeling that he's been waiting around for me to get off from work, and my suspicions are confirmed when he gestures at the spot on my shirt where my name tag isn't pinned anymore.

"Well, would you look at that?" he comments, sitting in the chair opposite me. "_Isis _is officially free from work."

"You know, you're making a terrible first impression," I inform him, but I can't bring myself to act upset. "Most people would consider this stalking."

He shakes his head, holding up a hand. "Nope, you are very mistaken," he corrects. "You invited me here, so, if anything, _you're _making a terrible first impression with false promises and fake names."

I roll my eyes in defeat and he takes advantage of the opening. "Want to get out of here?" he asks, holding out his hand. I laugh and hold up my own hand.

"I've got a kid to get home to."

For a moment his eyes widen, and then he remembers. "Ah, your brother, right?"

"And his little brother."

He shrugs, finally giving up. "Can I walk you to your car?"

I look at the bar and see that Bones is still being bombarded with customers. "Now that, I would greatly appreciate," I agree, getting down from the bar stool. "If I keep waiting, five o'clock will come around, and I'll still be waiting." I try and signal to Bones that I'm leaving, but his back is turned to me as he attends a group. Jade is nowhere in sight and I see Scarlet just as she ducks into a private alcove for a dance, which means she'll be out of my reach for a while. The other waitresses and dances are useless to me, and just as I'm about to give up, I spot Blue Suit Guy at the bar. Taking a deep breath, I hurry to his side.

"If I ask you for a really big favor and promise you a free drink in return, would you agree?" I ask, giving him a hopeful smile. "I wouldn't be bothering you if it wasn't my last resort." He's more tipsy than when I last spoke to him, and when he leans forward confidentially, I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Sweet pea, I think I would jump off a bridge for those olive-green irises of yours," he says with a ridiculous amount of sincerity. When I only blink, he laughs and gestures for me to continue. "I'm showering you with theatrical compliments. Tell me, what can I do for you?"

"Um... Tell Bones I left?" I say, gesturing at the bartender. He nods, and then points at Jerry, who's waiting for me a couple of yards away.

"With that guy?" he clarifies. I consider it for a second and shake my head.

"He's just walking me to my car."

He barks a laugh and takes a sip from his drink. "Honey, if I could get you out of this club, the last thing I would do is 'walk you to your car'," he states, but waves me away. "Go ahead, I'll make sure your S&M buddy knows." I'm somewhat thrown by his eccentricity, but smile gratefully nonetheless and hurry to the exit. Jerry puts his hand on the small of my back as we leave, and as polite of a gesture as it is, the square inch of skin he just happens to touch feels like it's on fire.

* * *

><p>When I was a kid, I used to love Saturday mornings because of- naturally- Saturday morning cartoons. Now, however, I still love Saturday morning cartoons, but because it keeps Jeremy and Matty busy while I catch up on sleep. As always, I get up around one o'clock in the afternoon and take a shower, then head downstairs to check on the boys. Like every Saturday, they're both hypnotized on the couch, both of their blonde heads directed straight at the TV screen.<p>

The two boys look so much alike, it surprises everyone that they're only half-brothers. Jeremy has tight, curly blonde hair and six-year-old Matty has straight blonde hair that covers his baby blue eyes, eyes his older brother has, as well. They're both considerably tall for their ages, and walk the borderline between scrawny and thin, most likely a result of playing so much soccer. As I make my way down the stairs, I'm relieved to see that they're both wearing soccer-appropriate attire. If they're out playing, I'll be able to study early, which means we could all maybe watch a movie before I go to work.

"Morning brats," I call.

"Morning Lani," the answer in identically robotic tones. I smile and make my way to the kitchen, planning to prepare myself a cup of coffee, and maybe some pancakes, if there's still mix left over in the box... The moment I enter the kitchen, the house phone starts to ring. I jump, surprised that it's ringing today. The phone never rings on the weekend. Curious, I pick up the receiver and say a greeting.

"Lani?" Bones' panicked voice emits from the receiver, surprising me further. "Oh thank God! Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I answer slowly, very much confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I hear him letting out a loud breath in relief, before calling out to somebody in the background, "Lani- Isis- is fine!". I wait for him to finish his short conversation and then return to me. "Lani, Jade is missing, and when Mr. Suit Guy told me that you had left with-"

"Hold on, Jade is missing?" I exclaim. When both boys look over at me, I lower my voice and duck further into the kitchen, pulling on the extendable cord. "How do you know?"

"Her babysitter called me at six o'clock this morning because she hadn't gotten back home," he explains. "I was pretty sure she'd left before you had, but when I checked her card, she hadn't even punched out."

"Have you called the police?" I ask in a whisper. My heart is pounding in my ears, and I'm trying my best not to panic. Jade is not just a good coworker, she's a very nice girl. Even if she's twenty-three and a dancer with a son Matty's age, she's always finding some way to help out. Hell, she even watched Matty and Jeremy one day that I got stuck working back-to-back shifts and almost couldn't find the energy to drive home. To think that something could happen to Jade...

"They're going around interviewing everyone now," he says, and I figure the person he'd been talking to was a cop. "They don't think it's going anywhere, because she's a... you know."

Stripper.

"That's not fair," I hiss, and stop myself before I can go off about the justice system. "Is anyone watching Jonah?"

"Vincent is watching him, and he has a sister who can take care of him tonight." He takes a shaky breath before continuing. "Lani, when I heard you'd left with that guy, I thought-"

"I'm fine, Bones," I cut him off, not wanting him to shake him up any more. "Jerry just walked me to my car. I'm sorry that I scared you."

"Just... be careful, okay?"

"I will. Promise."

With that we hang up and I settle into my seat, shaking. Jade's missing. In a town like this, that means dead. For all of the opinions regarding Vegas and the women who work there, Jade has always been reliable, and always put her son first. Sure, being a waitress/dancer/stripper isn't the most respectable profession, but she's worked with the cards she's been dealt, and like me, she's also working at getting her education. Last time we spoke, she told me she only had a semester left of online courses before she got her degree in accounting.

"Hey Lani, we're going out with Ed and Charlie for a bit, okay?"

I look up as Jeremy approaches the kitchen entrance, Matty's hand held in his. I nod mutely, not even bothering to remind him of the rules or his curfew. He already knows them, and even if he doesn't, I'm in too much shock to do anything about it. He takes in my most likely strange expression and clears his throat.

"We'll be back in a couple of hours, okay?" he says, looking at the watch. "Like five o'clock?" I nod again and he awkwardly takes a step back to make his exit, but pauses. "Um... If Adam calls, can you tell me?"

At his tone, I snap out of my daze. "What's wrong with Adam?" I ask. He sighs and runs a hands through his hair, making it even frizzier than it already is.

"He's gone missing," he says. I frown.

"But I saw you guys with him only yesterday."

"Nobody's at his house and he's not answering his phone," Jeremy insists. "We're going over to his house to check on things, and then we're gonna go play soccer." He holds up Matty's hand. "I'll take the kid with me."

"Um, sure... Yeah, go ahead." I wave them away, not wanting to give away my fear. Both boys give me quick kisses on the cheek before heading out, locking the door behind them. I now know first-hand what Jeremy is feeling, but it seems impossible to me. How could so many people disappear?

I don't realize at the time just how simple, or how close, the answer really is. With shaking hands I pick an apple up from the table and bite into it, my appetite for coffee suddenly gone. Across the street, however, behind blacked-out windows and cheap curtains, the reason for all of the disappearances sits in front of his TV, his appetite completely sated even as he plans the night's meal.

* * *

><p><strong>Post-Chapter Note:<strong>

**So, what do you think? I won't publish the next chapter until I get at least one review!**


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